Oh Danny Boy
by MoonMoon91
Summary: 'How do you know I don't have children' The aftermath of Super Mac's death has left C.I.D. in a mess. And when the biggest case Alex has ever dealt with comes along, she see's a side of Gene Hunt rarely seen by anyone. As they work to find the culprits, Alex is still plagued by the Rose-man's obsession with her, and Gene is forced to confront a ghost he never could bury. (Galex)
1. Finders Keepers

_**Oh Danny Boy**_

 _ **Welcome to my new Ashes to Ashes story guys! Jeez, I haven't written one for years. I re-watched the series and just fell back in love! Bit out of the blue, but I hope you guys enjoy!**_

Alex couldn't remember the last time she'd had a decent nights sleep. Since Mac's suicide, barely a week gone, her nights were plagued – and her memory of her home was diminishing. Only remnants circled her at night – Molly's terrified face, confused and alone. It broke Alex's heart to a point where guilt at her inability to return home kept her awake all night. The Guv asked if she'd been out on the town, every time she walked in with tired eyes, hair sagging slightly. But he probably knew. His eyes were tired too. As were everyone else's.

But last night, luck was in her favour. She'd left Luigi's and everyone down stairs by ten. Ray flirting with a girl at the bar, Chris and Shaz slowly getting more drunk and cosy. Gene sat there, brooding, with that frown on his lips. He'd barely muttered his _g'night_ to her when she'd left. But a hot bath and fresh pyjamas led to her sleeping deeply. A good sleep. No nightmares. Molly was smiling. Alex was pretty much content through the night.

She could have slept the whole way through had the phone not woken her.

'Bolls? Get yer pretty behind down 'ere now.' The phone went dead. Still in a bedtime haze, Alex's only proof the call hadn't been a dream was the red phone in her hand, rather than in its cradle. A groan into the pillow, and sleep rubbed from eyes, she climbed out of the warmth. Why was her bed always warm when she had to get up? Maybe luck really wasn't on her side.

Within less than an hour, she'd made herself decent and walking through the front doors of Fenchurch East police station. A car screeched past the doors, the sirens wailing, and more could be heard from the back of the building. Alertness pushed her brain like five strong coffee's, and her heeled boots clinked all the way to C.I.D.

When she walked through, the room was the busiest she'd ever seen it. A dozen, or definitely more, young children were seated all round, on seats, on top of her desk, or on the floor. Some were pale and silent, some red in the face as WPO's attended to crying faces.

It wasn't even five in the morning.

'What's going on?' She asked, her eyes wide as she looked at the children, of both genders, the youngest no more than eight, surely. The oldest ones could be fourteen, fifteen. And they were all filthy. Not street kid dirty, but children who had shelter, but not treated well.

'Get in here, Alex.'

Alex. Not Bolly. Things had gone south in less than an hour. One young girl with red hair was sat outside Gene's office. She was clutching her knees, and Shaz was sat next to her, a cup of orange squash in her hands. Alex stepped in and closed the door.

'What-?'

'If you thought things were shit before, you'll be in for the shock of yer life.' Gene's suit jacket had been discarded. The black sleeves were folded up, his tie loose, and his dark sandy hair a tousled mess. 'The business with Ralph Jarvis went deeper than we thought.' The sentence was momentarily interrupted by Gene kicking his waste paper bin. The racket caused several young heads to whip around in fear, and Alex felt her heart ache.

'You mean to tell me he's been...all of them?'

'Yes. We had an anon tip us off about some old warehouse. Though we're getting contraband, or some drug shite ready for the pipeline. Not _this.'_

Gene downed the half glass of scotch on his desk, and stretched his face as the liquid burned. 'It doesn't stop Bolly. That bastard Jarvis got of light with a bullet. I would 'ave personally kicked his head in. Picking up little kids. Some of them won't say what for.'

'And the others? What do they say?'

Gene tilted his head up and his heavy stare met hers. 'From being used for burglaries, robberies, Jarvis had men making 'em do all sorts of things. That bastard had more people in his pocket than I though possible.'

There was a knock at the door, and Shaz poked her head though. She too was deathly pale. Alex could see the small red haired girl looking up to watch. The plastic cup of juice was still full at her feet. 'Guv. Social services are here.'

'Right Shaz, thanks.' No sexist remarks, or demands for coffee with a dab of whiskey. Shaz nodded lightly and shut the door. Gene rubbed his eyes until he saw stars and spots mingle. 'Come on Bolly, we've got talking to do.' Alex watched him pull his jacket on, and root inside his desk draw, before collecting a half eaten packet of biscuits.

'What, some of Jarvis's men?' She asked.

'No. Some of the kids. Older ones. Some point to the same lad, says he knows it all. Want to talk to him till he's taken outta our hands an' we don't see 'im again.'

'Wait Guv-' but Gene had already wrenched his office door open.

''Ere you are love.' He passed down the packet of Garibaldi's to the red haired girl, who took them cautiously.

'Guv!' Alex followed his out of C.I.D., past a rough looking boy who was making Chris look rather small. 'Guv!' Her perm bounced as she strode to keep up with his longer legs. 'You can't just go in there and fire questions. They're all traumatised. You might hurt-'

He stopped outside interview room 2. 'Listen Bolls, only people I want to 'urt are Jarvis and those scumbags who work for 'im. But as Jarvis is dead, I'mma make his men pay. And only way I'll know anything is if I ask this kid. Now you with me, or will I have to do it by myself?'

Alex pushed the door open for him. But she bit her lip as she imagined the mental state any of those children would be in after should a terrifying ordeal. How long had they been there? Days? Years? Where did they even sleep? Did they get enough to eat, had they been warm? Her instincts as a mother flared up at seeing their small faces.

Interview room 2 was the one known for the dud light. Maintenance had done nothing, so the room was only half lit. But Alex could easily see the hunched up figure, sitting at the table. A too big jacket had been placed over him and he had drawn the hood up. If his face were any closer to the table, it would be pressed down on the surface. Alex could make nothing up from his physical profile, other than he was terrified. Utterly scared of anyone or anything.

Gene sat down at the table slower than Alex had ever seen him do. He approached the hooded boy gently to a point were she was standing speechless. Alex had seen Gene Hunt near enough pounce over this very table at a smug criminal who happily admitted a foul murder. But he took care ad grace when confronted with this scared child. She knew he had a soft side, deep down. It just took the utterly terrible to bring it out.

'My names D.C.I. Hunt. This 'ere is my colleague D.I. Drake-'

'I know who you are. Coppers. Pigs. Police.' The voice spoke softly, clear grown to be quiet. As Alex sat opposite, she repressed the shudders of what her imagination told her this boy had been through. He still did not raise his head. He did not look them in the eye.

'Well, suppose you could 'ave guessed what were going on.' Gene said, quietly too. He didn't take his eyes away. Alex looked between the two before stepping in, with a light smile on her face. Don't be threatening.

'What's your name?' She asked. The boy was silent, and she briefly wondered about his hearing, or selective mutisum, until-

'Name's useless.' He mumbled. 'Just something to distract yourself with. No point in keeping one, is there?' It wasn't really a question, so neither of them did.

'You must have something.' Alex said softly. 'What did your parents call you?' She could think of no other way to approach the topic delicately. Gene glanced over at her.

'Don't use that name anymore.' The voice very nearly whispered. 'Don't have one at all.'

They stayed silent for a few minutes. The sound that can only be made by silent children crept passed the door. Alex estimated they didn't have long until this boy was handed over.

'See, we want to find whoever did this to you and your friends-' Gene was cut of my a small laugh, which he tried to ignore. '-so we need you to tell us what you can, lad.'

'The other children seem to think you know the most about everything.' Alex said. The hood tilted up slightly, but they couldn't even see his chin yet.

'Only 'cus I've been there the longest.' And with that, Alex felt her heart break. The boy's voice had wavered slightly, strongly ashamed of the fact.

'Well you must have a pretty good idea of how things are run, what happens to who. Who the other kids are.' Gene said, and the unnamed boy shrugged.

'I remember some of their old names, the ones they used before they either forgot or didn't want remindin' of.'

Gene's movements were so subtle Alex didn't register until the photograph was place on the table, and Gene was pushing it towards the hooded boy.

'Did you know this boy, at any point? Name's Daniel O'Malley. Been missin' since 1974.' Alex glimpsed the upside-down photo – strongly curious of Gene's motives – and saw the boy who could be the same age as the youngest outside. No more than eight. Maybe younger. Sandy hair and a smling face. The school portrait was well kept, yet regularly taken out and stared at. 'Be about fifteen now.' Gene finished.

The hooded boy didn't even look up. The name must have been enough.

'Might have done once. But not now. Act like he's dead, sir. Makes it easier.' The cryptic voice was halted by a knock on the door. Shaz re-appeared and relayed the message of a frustrated and angry social worker. Gene had her escort the boy from his seat out of the room. He wasn't too tall, but still hunched over. Alex still didn't see his face, but saw the threadbare green jumper and frayed pants.

Once the door clicked shut, Gene snatched the photo from the table, and looked ready to flip the furniture whilst at it.

'Guv-'

'Not now Bolls.' He grunted and made a move to leave, but Alex was faster. She blocked his door.

'We seriously risked that boy's mental state by shooting questions at him. Not to mention social services will want our heads mounted. Who's O'Malley?'

'A long shot, that's who O'Malley is. Was. I don't bloody know.' He sighed heavily, running both hands through his hair. Alex glimpsed the photo inside the breast pocket of his shirt. 'Kid went missin' when 'e were jus' seven. Parents reached out when I were transferred down 'ere, hoped I'd be better than the last D.C.I who turned nuffin up. Still haven't found the lad. I took a shot, alright?'

Alex stared at her superior as he managed to push past and leave her inside Interview room 2, with the dud lighting.

C.I.D was bare now. Ray could be heard making himself a brew from the kitchenette, and a phone rang through the wall. Gene Hunt slammed his office door shut and closed the blind.

Do not disturb the Manc Lion.

The jacket came off again, and he poured himself another scotch. It was five fifty-five in the morning. But he didn't care. Didn't care that his supply was now running low. Didn't care his bin had a dent the size of his boots. Didn't care that he could be steaming drunk for the rest of the day, to the point where he could fall down the front steps and pass out.

He downed the burning amber and grimaced. There were a few scuffs outside the door, followed by the clink of heels. But Bolly had sense – for once in her goddamn time here – not to disturb him. He was grateful for that. He took what little more he could from the decanter until it was empty. Swing back. Burning. Grimace. Goddamn.

Once certain he had heard Alex head towards her desk, and tat he wouldn't be disturbed, he removed the slightly worn school photo of Daniel O'Malley. It had never spent more than a day inside the case file since Todd and Marie O'Malley had walked in with their thick Irish accents, crying for their son. When Gene came down to London in 1980, Daniel had been missing for six years already, his predecessor hadn't found anything of the boy. He was just gone from the park without a trace, and with no witnesses.

When he arrived he'd been gone six years. He would have been thirteen, and who knows where.

Think he's dead – he refused to let the boy's words get into his head. It wouldn't be easier. The O'Malley's still met with him, every other Thursday, at half eleven, to see if anything had been done. It used to be every Thursday, not every other.

Gene was ready to lick the remains of the scotch from his glass when he put Daniel O'Malley's photo back in his pocket, and removed his wallet from his trouser one.

Behind the old receipts and license, he pulled the small folded image.

Black and white, unlike O'Malley's school photo. And instead of a school boy, it was an infant. He'd been barely a day old. The picture taken at the only time he'd slept between being born and being handed over. Gene stared at the image for as long as he could go without blinking. He'd trained himself to not blink for as long as he could. Just so he look at the details he had already memorised to heart.

By six fifteen, and having blinked and repeated the routine several times, Gene decided he needed to re-fill that decanter, and was better to throw himself into the case that had been presented to him with an anonymous phone call in the early morning.

The small image was safely re-tucked in the back of his wallet, and back in his pocket.

 _ **This had been my first attempt at writing Hunt and Drake in years, so reviews are most helpful. If anyone enjoyed it, please let me know, and hopefully it will be a long and enjoyable story guys!**_

 _ **:)**_


	2. The Boy Beyond the Glass

Interview room 2 was still on the blink. Literally. The light that attempted to illuminate the room had frequent spasms of darkness then light again. When the lights worked for the brief period of time, it was clear to see that the 'suspect', was no longer a picture of health. He had started off relatively intact (save for tobacco stained fingers and a chipped front tooth) but after Gene Hunt had cornered the man, he had somehow managed to walk into a door frame twice, as well as trip over his own two feet. Wads of tissue were placed in his nostrils, as blood finally began to clot.

'Honest, Mister Hunt, I wouldn't be lying to you. Can I go for a smoke now?'

Gene rested his knuckles on the table surface and simply glared. This was enough to put Sean Avery off smoking for years to come.

'That's a load of Bollocks, Avery, and you know it.' Avery found himself sweating more than typical as Gene Hunt prowled around the room like a starved lion that had finally succeeded in finding prey. All his eyes and ears in the city had their lips stapled shut. None knew – or if they were they weren't talking, despite the Manc Lions reputation – of a warehouse full of missing kids. None would speak of their existence, or where they were heading to, or what had been done to them. Gene found himself holding back a sickness feeling every time he re-heard what those children had told him. Some had been willing to speak. But the worse part were those so scared by events that they couldn't talk about it.

'I'm serious, Mister Hunt!' Avery babbled, his greasy locks covering the blotchy face. "I know nothin' of any kids! I ain't the type!' Gene's fist reached forward before the man, barely in his thirties, could see it.

'You're every type, you bastard!' Gene found his anger rising higher than every before. He would need a drink after this. 'Now tell me what I need to know, or I'll have your knackers in a vice until you see Jesus!' Avery cried out as he fell out of his seat, just as the interview room's door opened.

'Guv!' Alex cried, as Avery moved towards the corner of the room, as far from gene as he could get. 'We need a constable!' She called, before a uniformed officer arrived to take Avery back to the cells. The man muttered about 'northern nutters' as he left the room.

'I ain't finished with you yet, you tosser!' Gene cried after the man, before leaning against the wall, breathing deep as he lit a cigarette.

'Guv.' Alex stepped into the room, closing the door as the light began its scheduled spasm, before staying lit for a few more minutes. 'Shaking confessions won't help anybody.' Gene just peered at his DI, before taking a heavy drag, and stubbing the rest out in the ashtray on the table. He pushed past Alex, who was not going to let him blank the voice of reason. 'Guv!' She called after him.

Gene pushed open the doors to CID and began his routine of making noise. 'Shaz!' The dark haired WPC looked up from her typewriter. 'Get all the missing person's reports for the last five years, all the missing kids.' She nodded and rolled her chair from her desk. He turned to Alex, as if he hadn't seen her in the interview room. 'Bolly, get me-'

'We're not talking to that boy again, Guv!' He had shouted all day to talk to that boy, the only link to the kidnappers they had. And Alex had protested every time he had demanded they bring the boy in. 'We're at risk of seriously damaging his psychological state!'

Gene began to tap his ears almost comically. 'Sorry, thought this was my department! _Oh wait!_ So cut the psychiatry crap, Bolly, and get me that kid!' Alex pursed her lips. Gene just glared at his DI, a woman he would very much like to strangle half the time. Then he turned to Ray.

'Fine. Ray, _you_ find me that kid. Get a name on him whilst you're at it.'

'Yes Guv.' Came Ray's gruff reply. He began shifting through paperwork for the correct phone-number as Gene skulked into his office. Before he could bang the door shut, Alex had wormed her way in.

'Guv, going into this like a bull in a china shop won't help us. It will just alert the underground and you'll make those kidnappers all the more keen to flee.'

Gene had already poured himself a drink and finished it in the time taken for Alex to state her opinion.

'Those bastards should already be wantin' to run. As soon as I get me 'ands on them I'm gonna stamp on their 'eads until they cry for their mothers, like them kids they kept locked up for who knows how long Bolly. They deserve to pay.' He grunted as he began searching for his car keys.

'I agree, Guv these are the lowest of all criminals, but we need to tackle this delicately.'

'I'll tackle them anyway I like, Drake, and it's going to be a tacklin' their grandkids will feel. ' Gene wrenched the door open again and Alex charged after him.

'Guv!' Ray called, putting the phone down. 'Social services have taken the kids all down to St. James's to get checked out. Still no name out of that kid though.'

'Right then – Chris get to work on all records of kidnapping we've had for the past few years. You and Ray drag in the scummiest of them all. You're with me Bollykecks. Now move yer buttocks.'

They fled past Viv at his desk and down the front steps to where the Quattro was parked. The engine was running and the car moving before Alex had even closed the passenger door. Gene Hunt's style of driving always made her crave a thousand seatbelts.

'Guv, you cannot seriously believe the risk of impeding the boy's mental state is the best way to catch these people.' Alex stated as they took a corner so sharp she nearly flew into his lap.

'I don't Bolly, but every second wasted is another for those bastards to get closer to sunning themselves on the Costa del somewhere.' Alex had to nod in agreement, and as she glanced at her superior she noted that had Gene not been wearing his leather gloves, his knuckles would be white with the way he was grasping the wheel.

St. James's hospital was relatively quiet, despite the chaotic stream of London running on the opposite road. But after they flashed their warrant cards and found themselves on the Children's ward, the quiet was thrown out of the window. Opening the doors, they found several of the children, those who hadn't been hurt more than a few bruises and in need of a hot meal, lining the corridor. They were mostly still, but several were shaking for sobs.

'I want my _Mum!_ ' One young boy was calling as a nurse tried to instil clam. Alex felt her heart twist and break at the sight of so many innocents hurt.

'DSI Hunt, Love.' Gene spoke to the nurse at the desk. 'This is DI Drake, Fenchurch East. We need to speak with one of the children brought in this mornin'.' The nurse nodded solemnly before taking a blue phone out of its cradle. The two detectives studied the scene before them.

'How could anyone be so heartless to children?' She asked quietly, her picture of Molly held by Layton burning so hard it burnt her mind. As she glanced at the bruised faces, she suppressed the shudder with the knowledge that the children worse off were hidden behind closed doors.

'The world is full of scum, Bolly. But then the people who are the embodiment of pure human _shite_. I'll make me own campaign to bring back hangin' for the bastards.' He whispered to her as Alex hid any sign of tears. Gene stared into her eyes as they shared the wish to catch whoever could have done this. Ralph Jarvis may have been dead, but the vile legacy was prime in his wake.

'DCI Hunt?' A Burly man in a white coat stepped out from behind the desk. 'Dr. Michael Davis, head paediatrician here at St. James's.' He grasped Gene's hand in fully for a moment. 'I understand you wish to speak to one of the children in our care at the moment?'

'Yes, erm, we believe he knows more than the others of who took 'em and where they were kept. But we don't know 'is name, wouldn't give us one last time.' Gene let his arms swing at his sides.

'I believe I know which boy you are talking about. But I'm sorry, but I cannot simply allow you to talk to him, as it may increase the severity of the trauma.' Dr. Davis observed several of the children sat with nurses on plastic waiting seats. Even the colourful paints and murals of the beach and sky could lighten the atmosphere of the room.

'With all due respect, doctor. This could life or death for more kids out there.' Gene said, looking down at the doctor, who was shorter by a few inches. Alex nearly matched him in her heeled boots.

'Would you like to follow me?' Davis said, leading them down the corridor. Avis patted the shoulder of several junior doctors and nurses as they passed. Gene saw a young girl, no more than ten, surely, cling to her knees as a nurse did her best to comfort her. He felt sick to his stomach, but knew taking his flask out here would be frowned upon.

Davis opened an office door and they stepped in. The blinds were drawn, and before the desk was a window, but no view of outside London appeared. Past the glass was a typical child's hospital room. The bed sheets were patterned with fishes and a box of toys sat in the corner. A tray of food sat untouched on the edge of the bed. Curled up on top of the pillow, was the same boy. The windbreaker hood was still drawn low, and the knees had been brought up to his chest.

'Yeah, that's 'im.' Gene stated as they watched the boy beyond the glass. 'What 'ave you got out of 'im. A name or anything?'

'No ID on him, and he refuses to speak at all, well, nearly. He has displayed some…colourful language when we approached him at first. We've been unable to treat any wounds, simply because he won't tell us of any, or show us. He holds that coat on at all times, more so than before.'

'He's afraid someone will recognise him.' Ale stated as she watched the shrinking body twitch slightly. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he too calling for him Mum? His Dad? If it had been Molly missing and suddenly behind glass, Ale would smash it herself.

'He's in a regressive state.' Dr. Davis sighed. 'Beyond the post-traumatic stress, this boy will need a lot of care. Pushing the topic on him will just worsen the state he is in. '

'He's the only link we've got, doc. We need to talk to him _right now._ '

'DCI Hunt I just cannot allow-' Davis began, but Alex cut him off.

'I understand, Dr. Davis, that he is in a fragile state. And from a psychologists point of view, he could very well worsen even if we don't extract information from him.' She hated the whole idea of questioning the boy, but she could hardly let Gene go in there by himself.

The doctor looked ready to refuse again, but Gene still had his favourite hand to play.

'Course if you'd don't let us speak to 'im, I'll 'ave you banged up for obstruction.'

Both Alex and the doctor stared at Gene. Davis shifted his tie awkwardly before saying: 'Fine. Ten minutes. No more, and if that boy worsens I will hold you responsible.' He strode from the room, and slammed the door to the point the boy beyond the glass twitched all the more violently.

'He is under a duty of care, I cannot believe you sometimes!' She felt like throwing her hands in the air and screaming at just how infuriating he could be.

'A lot of women don't believe in me Bolls. I'm just too good to be true.' Alex was left baffled as Gene turned the door handled and walked into the hospital room beyond the glass. She followed swiftly.

Alex wasn't sure what to say to the boy. The hood had tilted and she supposed he would recognise their voices. Or even their shoes from the way he always looked to the floor.

'I already spoke to you.' The boy whispered. 'And I'm not saying anything to pigs.'

Alex didn't believe for a second that this by disliked the police. To the contrary, she believed whoever he was with taught him to hate them. The emotion in his voice proved his words to be false. Alex stepped over and sat in the only visitors seat. Gene leaned against the mirror and watched through the pout on his face.

'We came to see 'ow you were doin', lad.' Gene spoke.

'I'm fine. I want to _leave_. Why won't they let me leave?'

'Well for starters, we don't know anything about you, not even yer name. Nobody to release you to.' Alex watched as the boy's fingers peered from the tips of the windbreakers sleeves, and began to lightly claw at his tucked up knees.

'I want to go.' He said quietly. Gene glanced at Alex. For once, maybe the psychobabble-bullshit would come in handy. Alex thought the same thing.

'We can't let you go because you're not safe. And you know that. If you really disliked the police, you wouldn't even speak your disliking. You'd stay quiet. You're in danger and we're here to help you.' She said all of this as gently as possible, and Gene felt a flood of newfound admiration for his DI. She may be a pain in the ass a lot of the time (try all the of the time, Genie) but she was his pain in the ass.

The boy beneath the hood twitched once Alex rested her hand on the bedside. She immediately retracted it, wary of his mental space.

'You can't help. They'll kill you. If you ain't already one of them.'

Gene reached into his coat pocket and stepped up to the bed. Upon closer inspection, he saw the boy was rocking slightly, which was worrying him. He shared a look with Alex, who had the same worry in her eyes.

'There you go lad.' He tossed his warrant card on the bed. One hand moved slowly to reach it, the fingertips once again visible. And gene felt a sickness in his stomach upon seeing them caked in blood. His or someone else's? The kid didn't look big or strong enough to fight anyone off. The warrant card was now being lightly held. The bloodied fingers ran over the smooth metal of the Metropolitan symbol, and traced the plastic rim of the card. When he didn't say anything, Alex briefly wondered that if this boy ad been there the longest, then for how long for? Surely his captors wouldn't take education into account and teach him to read.

'Hold on to it, kid. Let you remind yerself every time you start to feel unsafe again that we're gonna be watchin' out for you.' The hands gripped the card harder than before. The hood brim rose slightly. Then, the card was dropped to the bed below as the hands reached and slowly pulled the hood down.

Alex felt her stomach churn, and her blood drain. The black eye was quiet old, but the raw scabbing around the edges suggested it would still be painful. The boy's own face was drained of any blood, or perhaps he had yet to see a serious amount of sunshine. His green eyes were pale and glassy, and caramel hair was disarrayed and unkempt.

'Whoever you were hidin' from under that hood, they ain't gonna get you on my patch.'

'Even them lot behind the glass?' He asked. He looked small, underfed even. And as a result it was not easy for either Gene or Alex to guess his age. Alex began to guess he was around thirteen, but he could be either one up or one down, she just couldn't tell.

'Whoever's behind that glass you don't like, son, I'll introduce 'em to my boot.'

Was that a flicker of a smile? Not, just another twitch. Was the boy even capable of a smile? Gene didn't hazard a guess.

'We will help you, but we also need your help. We need to know if there are any others, or if you can name some people for us.' The boy's head dropped slightly, and he began to pull on a thread from his jumper.

'How bout we start with yer own name?' Gene asked and he stepped closer. He even crouched down, so he side to side with Alex. She had never seen a more clam and controlled side of him before.

'Don't have one.' He mumbled back, as if ever word cut his throat.

'You don't have one: did they take it from you?' Alex asked. 'Used it against you? Told you that you were someone else now?' The head rose again and he stared them both in the eyes.

There was a tapping on the other side of the glass. Gene held up one finger and, for once, not in the form of a rude gesture.

The boy stayed silent and looked at them. That was when he whispered: 'Those kids don't need my help. I'm the reason they're where they are now.' Gene's eyes narrowed, and the tapping persisted.

'Alight!' He bellowed to the communicator beyond the window. The boy jumped on the bed, and Alex reached out almost instinctively to try and calm him.

'Listen lad, it's my job to look after you. And the Gene Genie promises to look after you until the end of time.' With that, Gene left the hospital room, headlong and read to confront Davis on the other side. Alex gave the boy a warm smile as she rose from her seat.

'Sam.' He suddenly blurted out. Alex turned on the spot.

'I'm sorry?' She asked.

'Sam. It's a name. You can call me Sam. It's not mine, but it'll do.' Again, Alex stretched out a smile for this vulnerable boy before her.

'Nice to meet you Sam.'


End file.
